Cold
by Remus J. Lupin-Black
Summary: Remus learns that he has more in common with Albus Dumbledore than he thought. RemusSirius.


**Title**: Cold  
**Author**: Ex-Professor Remus Lupin  
**Rating**: PG  
**Genre**: Drama?  
**Era**: Half-Blood Prince  
**Pairing(s)**: Remus/Sirius  
**Summary**: "…you are not the only one who has lost someone you hold so close to your heart."  
**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Author's Note**: This was originally going to be a happy little piece of romantic fluff…I'm not quite sure what happened. I've read Half-Blood Prince once and I don't have the book on me so feel free to let me know if I fucked something up. God knows I love being made to look like an idiot.  
-  
The air was bitterly cold as he walked, gloved hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat, face covered by a thick wool scarf, amber eyes narrowed to slits. A sharp spray of slush hit his legs as a car drove past, soaking the lower half of the muggle trousers he had gotten used to wearing. He didn't stop, pressing onward, his destination now in sight.

The door thudded shut behind him as he stepped into the warm air of the Leaky Cauldron. Steam rose from his clothes as he tugged the scarf away from his mouth and moved across the room. Several customers gazed curiously at him as he passed, but they soon forgot him as he dropped into a chair in the corner, shrugging off his coat in the process and tossing it over the chair next to him to dry.

"Want something to warm you up?" Tom asked, approaching him and stopped just far enough to make it clear he was well aware of what the other man was.

"Hot water," Remus said, his voice hoarse from such little use. "I'm waiting for Dumbledore."

"I know," Tom said as he turned away. "He'll be along in a bit."

Remus nodded, tapping idly at the table, his fingernails long enough now to make a distinct sound. His gloves were fingerless and he left them on since the sleeves on his robes were too short now, riding up when he bent his arm to show his registry numbers on the inside of his left wrist. He hadn't bothered with a lengthening charm yet; fearful the material might unravel if he did.

He had places to be, namely the Weasley's, as he had been invited for Christmas dinner, but Dumbledore had wanted to speak with him first. Sighing, he barely noticed when Tom's daughter returned with his water, leaving it on the table. He had begun to make barely noticeable marks in the table when someone seated themselves in the empty chair across from him.

"Remus you look well," he glanced up to find Albus Dumbledore gazing solemnly at him from across the table.

"Hardly," he said, dropping his gaze to the table again.

"Yes, well, how went your visit with the pack?" Remus stiffened, eyes closing as he brought back his time with the werewolf pack.

"They have children now," he responded, mostly speaking to the table. He felt more than heard Dumbledore's surprise at this. "One of the girls, she had to be four or five."

"What about the leader? Did they express an interest?" fighting back his own irritation at Dumbledore's concern for the mission and the battle for the right, regardless of the lives lost, Remus shook his head.

"They weren't interested," he said. He didn't tell Dumbledore about how the Alpha had assumed him to be a traitor for living among humans and he certainly wasn't going to tell Albus that he had nearly been killed on three separate occasions. Most of all, he didn't tell Dumbledore that he really wouldn't have minded at all if he had.

Dumbledore nodded, making a sound of disappointment in the back of his throat. Remus wanted to scream at him.

"I thought that might happen, we can discuss this in detail later, I have things to do at the school and I'm sure Molly is expecting you," Dumbledore made to stand, glancing at Remus as he did and at the things he had carved into the table with his nails, still claw like in the early weeks after the full moon. "Perhaps, it is best that you not let the past decide how you live your future."

"What?" Dumbledore dropped one hand to the table; his thumb and index finger making a frame around the Sir that Remus had just carved into the table, already working on the other i.

Pulling his hand from the table and dropping them into his lap, Remus swallowed.

"You can't tell me to move on, Albus," he said, his voice cold.

"I know how valuable Sirius was to you, Remus."

Remus stood before Dumbledore could say any more, cutting him off, "I have to be at Molly's."

"Of course," Remus tugged his coat back on, ignoring the fact that it was still wet, and tucked his scarf into the pocket. "Remus?"

Fighting back a snarl – he really had spent too much time with the pack – Remus gazed at the headmaster.

"Yes?"

"I was well aware of why you returned to Grimmauld Place with Sirius," he said carefully. "Perhaps, I should have chosen kinder words when I spoke. I meant to say is that you are not the only one who has lost someone you hold so close to your heart."

"I–" Remus stopped, gazing at Dumbledore in surprise. For the first time, he seemed weighted down by the loss that Remus was all too familiar with. "I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago, but I do understand," the headmaster said, leveling blue eyes with Remus' gold. "One day perhaps, I shall tell you."

Remus nodded.

"Good," the headmaster smiled. "Now, you go have a nice time at Molly's and be sure to tell her I said Happy Christmas."

"Of course, Sir," feeling just as cold as he had when he arrived and his thoughts now even more so lost in the past, Remus left to find a safe place to Apparate to the Burrow.


End file.
